Let’s talk about my sister. She goes by the name of JeeBee. We’ll refer to her as JB for the sake of ease.

JB is a couple of years younger than me. 2, to be exact. Unfortunately for her, like most younger siblings she looked to her elder sibling for guidance and wisdom. That’d be me. Affectionately known as Christoff. TK8103 to my friends.

Well, to be honest, I’m not the best role model. As an older brother, you don’t have much choice in the matter. You’re a role model by default. Be that as it may, you may not be an especially great one. But hey, that’s what parents are for. In JB’s case, her parents were overgrown children themselves. To top it off, they split up when she was 10 and moved her away from her childhood home and friends. So she was off to a bad start.

Thankfully, JB is intelligent, if not a tad ignorant. She’s got brains, but she’s not always quick to use them. She’s passionate and creative whilst being lazy and overly content. She’s got high aspirations and hope, but has no purpose or direction. She’s been adrift for a while, and it’s finally starting to come around and kick her in the ass.

Chên. Shock, the Arousing. A little karma catching up with the bum.

JB quit her job 2 years ago to pursue her dream of becoming a published writer. Her room mate and long time friend had come into a nice little sum of money, and graciously if not insanely agreed to let JB and her tenacious twin CC live off her for 6 months while they gave living their dreams a try.

It was a nice idea, and I said “Hey, if you think you can pull it off, why the hell not?” That was 2 years ago.

Room mate and long time friend, MG, eventually ran out of money. She along with JB and CC managed to piss through a sizeable hunk of change in those 2 years. They all live in a filthy, shit ass apartment along with CC’s 6 year old daughter. Cute kid. They survive surrounded by the din of their own filth and trash, and the clatter of all the precious shit they’ve spent their money on. Finely crafted, highly collectable limited edition crap. They have no money, except for MG who works for a living again. Earns a paycheck for working for a living. JB and CC trade in used cds to buy cigarettes. They’re on the dole for heating assistance. CC’s is waiting on some legendary 6 figure settlement from Comcast for a life altering fender bender that has left her crippled. She’s not actually lame. But see that smudge on the xray that looks like a thumbprint? That’s trauma.

They have 1 car between them (JB and CC. MG has her own wheels.) Said car has been in disrepair for sometime. It passes inspection, but barely. Hell, I’ve had more than a few cars like that in my day. Last week, the poor thing gave up the ghost. A lack of oil left the old girl with a bad ticker, and it finally seized.

After a couple of close calls with parental intervention, JB finally got off her tush and started looking for a job in earnest. She ended up getting hired at, of all places, the very company whose bonds she had slipped a mere 2 years ago. All she had to do was pass the simplest of tests. One were all you had to do was not do something for a month or 2. That’s pretty easy, really. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Ahhh, JB. They found a little THC in her tinkle. Did I mention that JB’s mother works for this same company? She does. Mother is a little upset. Mother has good cause to be. Mother thinks it might be time to start parenting again. So do I.

Now I’ll be the first to admit I have erred in my day. Sometimes I’ve even erred in spectacular fashion. I continue to err, in a much more subtle fashion now that I have some responsibilities in life. Because those things matter to me. I’ve always managed to keep my head above water, and plan just far enough ahead to give myself something of a cushion should shit come to pass. Because it often does. Case in point, the furnace just shut off because we’re out of oil. They oil guy is coming tomorrow, but it’s still tonight and our furnace has just shut off. Oops. Guess I should have taken the trip down into the basement to check the oil level a couple of days earlier.

That said, JB does not have the kind of safety net I’ve always kept. She’s still got blind hope where I’ve always had a jaded realism. She still firmly believes it all just work itself out. I’d be happy to eat my hat if it ever did, but I know it doesn’t work that way.

I’m sitting here tonight, listening to The Dirty 3 and thinking about that big brother role. And whether or not I need to pick up the mantle and be one while I try to do a better job at being a husband and a father. I’m weighing possible interventions and probable outcomes. Right action versus mindful action. I’m thinking about how much I need to clean up my own act as well. Her big chen is my little chen. A tap rather than a slap. Time for TKSr. To get behind the mule and plow. Only by doing so could he teach JB and TKJr to plow.

What to do, what to do… I was going to watch Devil’s Rejects. Instead I think I’ll take a much needed leak, smoke a couple of butts and mull things about until I fall asleep.